


Some Day One Day

by epherians



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Inspired By Tumblr, Inspired by Music, Inspired by a Queen Song, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Roommates, Sharing a Room, Songfic, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 11:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17682677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epherians/pseuds/epherians
Summary: Brian is in love with Roger, but he can only tell him that when he’s asleep.Inspired by the song “Some Day One Day.”





	Some Day One Day

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to @lunarezim and [Cinder_Dargor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinder_Dargor) for chatting this Maylor prompt with me over on Tumblr!
> 
> Literally, the best way to listen to "Some Day One Day" is in the dark when you're about to go to sleep. There's no questioning it.

It’s after he’s had this row with Roger, who immediately stormed off to their room and slammed the door to be left alone. _Good riddance,_ Brian thought, that he could have some peace and quiet for the next few hours—but after the mood subsided, he felt guilt the longer he left Roger hanging on a sour note.

So he’s in their room, sneaking in without being spotted, and he can see Roger with all the covers over him and very much wanting to sleep away his frustration. Brian sits at the bedside, watching his roommate sleep soundly, the rise and fall of his breathing putting him at peace. Brian thinks Roger is like a hedgehog: quills out on the defensive, but tenderly soft and vulnerable otherwise. If Roger knew, he would refuse to be compared to one of the guitarist’s favorite animals, but Brian found the similarity too apt—after all, Roger has clutched his blanket while curled up into a little ball. The guitarist smiles to himself and ruffles his friend’s hair.

“You're impossible to not forgive, Rog…especially when you're asleep so peacefully.”

Brian didn't think much about stroking his friend’s hair as he curled up on his lap, until the realization hit him like a lorry. And then Roger stirs.

“Hey, are you awake now?” Brian asks immediately. When he hears the younger one respond, he launches into apologies. “Rog, I'm sorry for arguing with you earlier. I let my temper get the best of me, and I regret hurting your feelings like that. Will you forgive me?”

Roger is quick to answer. “Of course, Bri…” Probably he is confused to hear this all upon waking. “I-I never wanted to stay mad at you for long.”

But all Brian feels is relief. “I'm glad…” he manages to say, shakily, and the words are spilling and tripping him over. “Oh Rog, we’d be foolish to throw our friendship over anything so trivial, and I couldn't bear myself if I knew I hurt you.”

“Bri, you're such a softie tonight,” Roger chuckles.

“Really? And who's the one accepting a late-night cuddle for his bedtime?” Brian can’t help but respond naturally to their banter, and he hears Roger laugh, mirth so radiant and all traces of their row evaporated.

“Well I think your cuddles will help me sleep _very well_ , thank you very much!”

And then it feels like something _squeezed_ his heart and gave it a sudden pull, because when Brian smiles, he knows he can’t go back.

 

It’s the kind of feeling where his cheeks are flush and his heart grows tight at the thought of loving his best friend. He’s not supposed to suddenly fall in love with his best friend, you know? It happened so fast and uncontrollably that now there’s a tug in his heart everytime he sees the blond-haired boy smile.

Brian is in love with Roger, but he can only tell him that when he’s asleep. He already knows how he’ll trip over his words if he ever had to bring up his crush to anyone, so he’ll keep it to himself until it’s quiet, in the late din of night when he’s sure he won’t be heard.

Brian observes Roger’s sleeping face, how he looks so peaceful and relaxed unlike his exhaustion, energy, and stress when he’s awake. All Roger probably wants from this life is a long rest, but that doesn’t come adequately in the life of a budding rockstar.

“I know how you feel, little one,” Brian tells him absentmindedly, but stops. What is he doing talking to Roger in the middle of the night? What if Roger wakes up and hears what a lovesick, babbling fool he sounds like? Brian is scared to act on his feelings because he can see any confession would ruin their friendship forever.

It’s funny how butterflies don’t make a sound and here they are, fluttering so loud to make his stomach turn. Roger remains asleep, so Brian reaches out to gently stroke the long hair covering his face. “Get some sleep, Rog,” he settles for telling him. “Dream beautiful dreams tonight.”

 

For several nights, his habit persists. Normally, it’s _Brian_ who goes to sleep before Roger, but he’s willing to forego a rational habit in favor of soothing his silent crush. The more he stays up, the more emboldened he feels to pour his heart out to Roger. He talks about his day, airs his grievances, expresses his thoughts about a new song he’s working on. Moreover, he tells Roger the things he isn’t able to tell him during the day, in person or next to their friends.

Things like, “I think you did very well today, and it wasn’t your fault the song wasn’t coming together right. We’re just four obnoxious people trying to make sense of our whimsical fancies. But you put up with us, never faltering and always giving your all with every drum beat. Thank you for bringing us your joy, Rog.”

Or, “I was worried when you threatened to topple your drum kit. Really! I think I’ve managed to get over my disappointment that you nearly frightened Freddie or that John would’ve had a fit trying to rework the budget when we’re already trying to be sensible about our expenses. I just wish you were able to talk to us instead of thinking you can only take your frustrations out on hurling things. I care for you, Roger, and I want to help you…”

One night especially, Brian brings good news. “I have a new song I’ve been working on,” he tells him like a diary. “It’s actually inspired by you, or at least, the things I want to tell you. I’ve grown fond of this one that I might just sing it for the recording. Heh, finally I could do lead vocals on my own song. Just like you.” He takes a moment to quickly ruffle Roger’s blond hair. “This might sound a little shaky, but. I hope you like it.”

Brian’s song is like a lullaby, words that comfort and promise a distant, dreamlike home in spite of the clouds that keep the stars from lighting their way. He quite enjoyed the imagery put into the lyrics, and more importantly, it carried the faint hope that it was possible to tell the person in the song his feelings.

One night later, Brian commits to it.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Roger.”

He gulps.

“To be very honest, I’m scared. I’m scared if I tell you this, I’ll be rejected… and I don’t want to lose our friendship, you know? But also if I don’t tell you—it feels like a part of me suffocates if I don’t.”

(Silence. The clock has never ticked as loudly as the beating of his heart. Brian drops his voice to a weak whisper, as if it’s the last hope he can’t be heard.)

“ _I’m in love with you, Rog._ …Yeah, I love you, and I’m scared you won’t love me back. I’m scared I’ll ruin everything if you ever knew. Please forgive me…”

The soft sound of sniffles pierces the air. Brian realizes the hand he’s holding is squeezing him back.

_Roger is awake._

 

* * *

 

Roger remembered the time he and Brian had a row—Brian was being overbearing while he himself was rebellious—and he stormed off to their room in a huff. He didn't want to see Brian come after him or deal with the argument anymore, so he pulled the covers over and went to sleep to banish his frustrated thoughts.

When he did wake up from his “hotheaded nap,” he was met by a comforting presence behind him, slowly stroking his hair. It was dark and he was still too groggy to move and adjust, but he had an idea who it could be.

“Hey, are you awake now?” the soft, calming voice asked. “Roger, I'm sorry for arguing with you earlier. I let my temper get the best of me, and I regret hurting your feelings like that. Will you forgive me?”

Roger didn't even want to think about why they argued. Being comforted by his friend was relief enough. “Of course, Bri… I-I never wanted to stay mad at you for long.”

“I'm glad…” Was that shaky, nervous relief in Brian’s voice just now? “Oh Rog, we’d be foolish to throw our friendship over anything so trivial, and I couldn't bear myself if I knew I hurt you.”

“Bri, you're such a softie tonight.” Roger chuckled at the guitarist’s tendency to ramble.

“Really? And who's the one accepting a late-night cuddle for his bedtime?” Roger could _feel_ the smile from the person behind him, that he wanted to flip sides and pounce on him.

“Well I think your cuddles will help me sleep _very well_ , thank you very much!”

They were such close friends that affectionate gestures like these didn’t faze them in the slightest. Brian pulled Roger into a hug and the drummer could sleep tonight knowing things were well with his best friend…or so he innocently believed.

It was impossible not to fall in love with Brian May; at some point it was bound to happen. Roger has to convince himself it's never gonna be returned—since when would his smart, talented, and absolutely gorgeous best friend ever be attracted to him?—but trying to hide his feelings only makes him love Brian even more. Their usual friendly gestures—Brian ruffling his hair, Brian hugging him, Brian making jokes with a sly grin—have given Roger pause, and it wouldn't be the first time he's imagined how those gestures would be interpreted if he and Brian were more than just friends.

Even sharing a room with the guitarist made Roger more nervous as of late. Normally, he wouldn't bat an eye at playfully invading Brian’s personal space, but now he felt so jittery at the thought of brushing against his roommate the wrong way that he just backed off. Roger could only hug his knees and clutch the covers every night as he kept wishing that he and Brian could someday fall in love together.

 

Roger thinks he’s been having a few odd dreams. He could hear and feel them vividly and they all had a recurring pattern: he feels peace and comfort like never before.

The first night Roger wakes up, he hears a soothing voice as his hair is being gently stroked. His sleep-weary mind is confused if this is real or he’s just imagining things, but he falls asleep feeling much more relaxed and he wishes to feel that comfort again.

The next night, Roger realizes it's Brian talking and immediately he’s excited to privately hear the voice of his crush. He stays up to listen because he’s so _fascinated_ by what the guitarist has to say about anything, but what makes him so suddenly curious is the way it seems like Brian is talking _to him._

“Roger, I wonder what we did to deserve you. I mean—how many times did Freddie ask for your falsetto? You nailed them _flawlessly_ in every take and your voice didn’t crack. Wow… Whatever he’s got planned with those overdubs is bound to be amazing, and a lot of that is thanks to you.”

Brian has pure admiration and awe that hardly seem contrived. Roger wonders if it’s because they did exceptional recording work today and that’s why Brian is commending him.

It isn’t until a few days later, when Roger had gone to sleep under heavier circumstances, that he’s able to hear Brian’s late-night musings again.

“I was worried when you threatened to topple your drum kit. Really!”

The blond feels a pang of guilt after realizing how impulsive and dangerous that was to his bandmates. Brian isn’t mad at him, but he’s trying to process his thoughts on the matter. “I think I’ve managed to get over my disappointment that you frightened Freddie or that John would’ve had a fit trying to rework the budget when we’re trying to be sensible about our expenses.” There’s a moment of stillness, and then Brian is calmer when he speaks again. “I just wish you were able to talk to us instead of thinking you can only take your frustrations out on hurling things. I care for you, Roger, and I want to help you…”

Roger might understand now why Brian talks aloud at night. The guitarist has a lot of thoughts in any given moment, but his reserved personality means he would rather save his words than blurt them all out. Brian hasn’t let loose like Freddie, but when given the chance, he can go into rambling introspection and Roger likes to hear that side of him.

Frankly, Roger wouldn’t want to intrude on these private moments Brian has to himself, but he’s also decided that he needs to hear more, find out what Brian has to say. So he makes it a secret, personal mission to continue eavesdropping, because everything Brian ruminates about is worth staying up to hear, sleep deprivation be damned.

Roger’s never been this excited for bedtime, even though he’s actually pretending to be asleep with the lights out until Brian comes along to tell him his secret bedtime story. He’s so good at going unnoticed, that one night he “falls asleep” in Brian’s bed and feels his heart do a giddy leap when said roommate comes over and calls him a “little Goldilocks” who wandered into his bed.

“Is my bed just right for you, Rog? Is that it?” The guitarist asks as he gently strokes his hair. Roger decides that Brian is just right for him and he won't have otherwise.

There’s one night in particular where Brian starts to sing. Roger has heard Brian’s soft, soothing vocals before, but this might be the first time he’s willing to sing his own composition. He stills, convinces his mind to shut it and just listen.

“ _You never heard my song before, the music was too loud… but now I think you hear me well, for now we both know how… no star can light our way, in this cloud of dark and fear, but some day, one day…_ ”

Brian’s song is like a lullaby bringing him to heaven. Roger would give anything to hear his friend sing to him again, but here he is, unable to speak or say a word to make it happen.

 

“There’s something I need to tell you, Roger.”

Brian’s nervousness the next night makes Roger very tense.

“To be very honest, I’m scared. I’m scared if I tell you this, I’ll be rejected… and I don’t want to lose our friendship, you know? But also if I don’t tell you—it feels like a part of me suffocates if I don’t…”

What? What is Brian going to tell him? Roger can feel he’s absolutely shaking, but he _has to stay still_ like a statue or else Brian is going to know. Brian also seems to take forever to get to the point as he carefully reaches for Roger’s hand to hold it in his own, and Roger wants to know why when all of a sudden-

“ _I’m in love with you, Rog._ ”

Roger feels his heart drop. No, it’s about to leap out of his chest, if he doesn’t concentrate at this very moment to hear what Brian’s going to say next!

“…Yeah. I love you, and I’m scared you won’t love me back. I’m scared I’ll ruin everything if you ever knew. Please forgive me…”

And Roger tries to not give away that he’s heard. He knows he’s gonna ruin what is Brian’s most vulnerable, private confession, but he couldn’t have been in love with his best friend even more in that moment, and suddenly there’s warm tears streaming down his face and he doesn’t realize he’s gripping onto Brian’s hand like it’s his lifeline.

“Tell me this stuff while I'm awake, would you?”

 

* * *

 

Brian freezes. Everything pales in sheet white horror because if _Roger_ is speaking then that means he—

“H-How did you know? How long did you-”

“I’ve known for a while-!” Roger is quick to blurt out through his tears. “I knew you were speaking to me, okay?! I-I woke up, heard you saying something about me on accident, and then I couldn’t go back to sleep because I wanted to hear more.” Wow, what a way to hurt his best friend, who might never confide in him again after having his private space so rudely invaded.

Brian just sits where he is and shudders. “Well. I’m sorry, Rog. I’m sorry for making you hear all those ridiculous ramblings from me, as if I could really tell secrets and expect them not be found out-”

“You daft poodle, Brian, I like hearing your words! Because _I like you!_ ”

The room goes silent for nearly half a minute. And then Brian scoffs. “You’re just saying that so you won’t offend me.”

“No, it’s true, Brian, I mean it when I say I like you! I do!” Roger grips his hand with both of his own, his voice literally fighting past the tears. “I’ve never been able to say it because I thought you wouldn’t like me back. You…you had more confidence to actually say the words. I was just going to keep my mouth shut forever.”

Brian chuckles at that. _Roger, shutting up?_ John would sooner sing on a record than Roger be unable to speak his true feelings. He’s shaking, suddenly, and then it really dawns on him what Roger just said.

“…Roger, is it true?” Brian stills as he notices his best friend’s grip is the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

“Of course it is, Brian, I- _oh my god._ ” The drummer’s eyes widen like he’s pulled by gravity. He scrambles to express every thought at once: “It’s not that I like you- I mean, I DO LIKE YOU- but I didn’t mean to say it that way- _Fuck,_ please understand, Bri…” —and he’s clinging onto Brian like he’s going to lose him forever after confessing this. “I love you. Honestly, I suck at words and I don’t have a confession planned out like you, but-”

Brian leans in to tentatively kiss Roger on the lips. He’s always wanted to know what kissing his best friend would be like.

Roger sits up, and adjusts their position so he can kiss him back. It’s quiet except for the sounds of their lips as they touch. It’s dark at night but they hold onto each other like they need someone to feel them and understand them right now.

The kiss is nervous, but eager and full of relief that _someone like you could love me too._ They kiss again, like giddy schoolboys who found something beautiful, and afterwards they lean together against the wall of the bed, full of unspoken words that could break the moment as it has been so carefully built.

“Will you be here tomorrow?”

“…Of course I will. I’m not going anywhere, Rog.”

“That’s a relief. …I’m glad you stayed, Bri.”

“I’m glad you stayed, too, Rog.”

Tonight, it feels like something finally came home.


End file.
